Fifty Words for Redemption
by CorvusCorvidae
Summary: Santana's fifty word a day limit hasn't changed things as planned, and now she has to deal with the fallout. Pezberry alternative ending to Fifty Words for Forgiveness - need to read that story to understand. AU.


A.N. I will just say this now, this alternate ending is nowhere near as neat as Fifty Words. I knew exactly what Quinn was going to say to Santana in that final chapter from the very first; this isn't like that at all. Please keep that in mind if it seems disjointed.

The first scene is from Chapter Fourteen of Fifty Words, and that's where things split off. Previously in that chapter, Brittany confessed to being behind Fifty Words, Quinn tried to initiate a relationship with Santana again, only to be turned down because it has to be a secret, and Rachel ended up having dinner at Quinn's to hash out their problems.

*0*0*

Fifty Words for Redemption

*0*0*

Blindsided

*0*0*

That Thursday night, you paced your floor a thousand times, kept looking at the clock, and prayed for time to move faster. You had agreed with Rachel that she would come to yours afterwards, as she knew you would be unsettled by it all. You wanted to be embarrassed that she knew you so well, but there was no time for that, and really, you shouldn't have been surprised.

Rachel was only going to Quinn's for dinner, and you had already found out she was to be there for seven o'clock. Therefore, by nine o'clock she should have been out of there, easily. Yet, as you looked at the clock another time, it read ten seventeen.

What the hell were the two of them up to for three hours? Had one of them snapped? Were you going to get a phone call asking you to help move a dead body and provide an alibi?

As if the universe was aware of your thoughts, your phone suddenly vibrated, and you almost tripped over your own feet trying to get to it.

_I'm outside, come let me in. – Rachel _

Chucking the phone on the bed, you skipped down the stairs, trying hard not to draw too much attention to you so your parents didn't come out and start the Spanish Inquisition. Thankfully, they both looked to be happily settled in the living room, and oblivious to your actions.

Opening the door as quietly as possible, you ushered Rachel in and the two of you snuck up to your room. She looked to be in one piece, and her eyes weren't puffy or red from crying, so that was good, but still, she might have been holding it in. You needed to be sure.

After one final check to see your parents were still occupied, you shut your bedroom door and locked it. Rachel was glancing round your room with curiosity, and completely oblivious to all the emotions bubbling up inside of you.

"How'd it go?" you asked, sounding rather frantic as you advanced on her. Rachel smiled and went to step past you, but you were having none of that. If she was going to lie, she could do it to your face. Taking her hand in yours, you tugged her to the bed and made her sit. She laughed at your antics and shook her head, knowing she wasn't going to get away that easy.

"It went well, better than I expected," she admitted, no sign of deception in her words.

"Really?" You could hardly believe it.

Rachel smiled and rolled her eyes, clearly expecting your distrust at her words and nodded. "Yes, really. Don't sound so surprised."

"I am surprised. You had dinner at Quinn's house. Not even I do that." Rachel practically flinched at your words, and you wanted the floor to swallow you up whole when you realised what you'd eluded to with that sentence.

"Not even when you two were…?" Rachel asked, looking anywhere but at you.

"No, dinner wasn't exactly what we wanted from each other," you said, rubbing the back of your neck, anxiously. Nice going, jackass.

Rachel seemed to hear your words and then take a moment to process them. She blinked once, twice, before shaking her head and taking a deep breath.

"Oh. Well, that's a little awkward." She frowned and examined the bedspread beneath her fingertips, avoiding eye contact with you.

"Awkward?"

"It felt weird being in her room, knowing you two had…yeah." She had been in Quinn's room. Fucking hell, was Quinn trying to torture the girl?

"Was it all weird, being there?" you asked, curiously. You needed to know how much it had affected her so you knew what stance to take in case something like this happened again. If you made enough fuss, you were sure you could get Rachel to bow out of whatever Quinn had planned next.

"At first we danced around the issues, but eventually it became clear small talk was going to get us nowhere. We hashed out some problems, and then found mutual ground to discuss. And no, you may not enquire as to what it was. Quinn and I are attempting to patch up our problems, and you getting involved only spells disaster."

"If that wasn't true, I'd be very hurt right now by that accusation," you mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest. Pft, as if you were the problem here.

"Oh shush."

"So, you guys don't have plans for anything else, do you? I don't think my heart could take the worrying," you admitted, watching as Rachel's face lit up with your confession.

"You were that worried, huh?"

"You know I was, now answer the question." She grinned at you and the embarrassment you felt seemed worth it.

"No, we haven't made any plans. I think we're just seeing how it goes, and if Brittany has another sleepover, then we will try to be civil towards each other then." Rachel shrugged, looking unfazed by it all, as if it wasn't really a big deal for her. Maybe it was only a big deal for you.

"Okay, so if you're free, do you maybe want to…I don't know, do you want to…" you began to say, frowning at the nerves you suddenly felt. It was only Rachel, but the two of you had a friendship that flourished in school, and so far, hardly any interaction out of it.

"Yeah?" Rachel asked, curiously raising her eyebrows in question.

"I mean, do you want to come over and hang out this Friday? We've not really been able to do that properly." That was an understatement. The times the two of you had were either with other people present, or where you had run out of words.

"Really?" Rachel looked excited, but there was a shadow of doubt, as if she didn't believe you.

"Yes, really. Don't sound so surprised," you mocked, earning a playful glare in return.

"That's a very kind offer, and once I get permission from my fathers, I shall be happy to say yes."

"Okay, so great, it'll never happen. Your fathers hate me," you moaned, dramatically dropping back on the bed. Rachel laughed and you felt her move to lean over you.

"They don't hate you, they just don't know you. I'm working on rectifying that, however." You frowned at that, earning another smile on her lips.

"Bullshit, they hate me. And stop whatever it is you're thinking now, I do not consent. Oh, and how the hell did you convince them to let you go to Quinn's house? The Fabray's hate your family."

Rachel winced and nodded, clearly ignoring your 'do not consent' comment. Whatever, you'd get back to that later. No way was she getting off that easy.

"Indeed, it was very tricky, but I convinced them that Quinn was in need of a friend and it would hypocritical of them if they didn't let me be that friend."

"But you're not friends with her," you pointed out, causing Rachel to roll her eyes at you again.

"Yes, but they don't know that."

"This is why they hate me. You would never have lied like that before I came along." You were such a bad influence on her.

"Oh please, you give yourself too much credit. I would, and did, lie like this. You just gave me fun reasons to do so, rather than really sad ones." You gave her a soft smile at that, feeling guilty all of a sudden, but she saw right through you. "None of that, get that look off your face now, and tell me what you have planned for Friday before I have to leave."

You smiled and rolled your eyes, pleased that she was looking forward to tomorrow night, and rather relieved she wasn't going to let her fathers' distaste for you ruin things. After running through what you hoped the two of you could do this Friday, Rachel left your house with a beaming smile on her face, and a spring in her step, not unlike the one you had sported earlier on in the week.

*0*0*

When Friday night finally came around, you found that it was rather strange. You were so used to seeing her in school, or rather, with other people around, that when it came to being with her for a long length of time, you stumbled over what to say.

Oh, she filled the time plenty, talking about everything and anything, but you found it a bit odd. You thought it would be easier to fall into the role of friends outside of school easily, and the other few times you two had attempted to had gone great, but there was an unusual air about things now.

Maybe it was because you knew she had feelings for you. Maybe it was because you still hardly said anything when you didn't have to, a lovely after effect of Fifty Words. Maybe it was because she was nervous, too, and feeding off your anxious energy. Maybe it was because your brain kept thinking about someone else, another girl who had feelings for you, and you'd feel guilty.

You hadn't had this problem before, comparing Quinn with Rachel and Rachel with Quinn, but as you lay on your couch, legs kicked out in front of you on the coffee table, with Rachel snuggled at your side, you started to.

It wasn't anything serious, anything to worry about, just a little thought here and there about how each of them felt lying against you, the faces they'd make when watching a movie, the sounds and sighs they made as the characters' lives fell apart and came together again, and how you felt around them.

If anything, this was just a way to see where each of them fell, either in the friends category or the more than friends. Quinn was easy, she was so much more than a friend, and you felt that you could never put her back in the friend category. It would be wrong to, and even the thought left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Rachel, though. Rachel was a friend, for sure, but you knew if only a small thing changed, if only the situation presented itself in the future, you could actually see her as more than a friend, and that thought scared the hell out of you.

Your body stiffening next to hers had her looking at you with concern. Nothing remotely pressing was happening in the movie, so there was no need for your reaction, and it wasn't like you could tell her what you had just been thinking.

"You okay?" she asked, using her arm to push herself up off your side, and you wanted to bring her back to you but didn't know how.

She clearly thought you were freaking out over how close she had been to you, which was stupid, but you had yet to give her any other reason.

"I just…" You wanted to lie, you wanted to give some reason, but you couldn't. You couldn't lie to her. You couldn't do that.

Santana of past would have. She would have lied like there was nothing to it, but you weren't her anymore. You weren't her because of Fifty Words and this girl who was looking at you with so much concern it hurt.

"I just don't know how I feel about you anymore," you confessed, feeling the adrenaline flooding your system. God, you probably shouldn't have fucking said anything, but the words were out there now, and Rachel was looking at you in shock.

"Do I…should I leave?" she asked, pulling back further and fuck no. You shook your head and moved to follow, your hand grabbing hers and trying to bring her back to you. "Santana, I don't understand," Rachel whispered, biting her bottom lip, still looking terrified and you took a breath.

Reaching up, you cupped her cheek in your hand and slowly moved forward, she saw what you were doing, she knew exactly what you were about to do, and as you closed your eyes, fully ready to kiss her at last, she slipped from your arms and darted off the couch.

"We can't do that…we can't," Rachel said firmly, shaking her head. She looked pained, and you winced at the sting of rejection and how torn she looked. "You have no idea…You love Quinn," she said simply, and you deflated backwards on the couch.

But what if you could love her, too? What if you already did, in some way you had yet to fully realise?

"I'm sorry," you murmured, feeling ashamed of putting her in that position. "I should never have-"

"Don't worry about it," Rachel finished. "Let's just watch the rest of the movie." She gave you a friendly smile, and then sat back next to you. She wasn't as close as she was before, but she hadn't run away like you expected her to. Then again, when did Rachel ever run.

No, the only one running from you, from your affection and intimacy was Quinn. And why was that?

*0*0*

The following week was a little iffy for Rachel and yourself, but the almost kiss was dismissed quickly. Rachel brought it up when you went to apologise again, but she gave you a plethora of excuses to cover all bases and you were effectively let off from what almost happened. It was sweet of her, but it didn't quell the storm of emotions brewing beneath the surface. However, you weren't going to acknowledge them again anytime soon.

Wandering through the hallway after lunch, before the next class was due to start, you came across Brittany. She was biting her lip, looking very upset about something, but thankfully not crying. If she was, you'd need to pull out Snixx and go kick some ass. That really wasn't something you wanted to be doing again, unless you absolutely had to. New you, new Snixx, thanks to Fifty Words.

"You look stressed, what's up?" you asked, rubbing her arm softly as she leant on the locker next to her.

"Nothing…just things aren't going the way I thought they would," she replied, looking off in a daydream at the end of the hall, her eyes slightly glassy.

"What do you mean?" You frowned in confusion, and hoped for some kind of explanation. Brittany shook the daydream away and turned to you fully, looking as if she was definitely about to cry.

"I thought it would…I thought I was helping you out, but it's not…things have changed and I can't…" she babbled, looking up to the ceiling to chase away her tears, and you stepped forward to comfort her more.

"Whoa, Britt, calm. What's going on?" You needed to know. You couldn't help her if you didn't know.

"I can't tell you, but I'm worried you're going to hate me, San. I never thought this would happen. I was sure she would- but it's not- I can't-" Her words began to break off, and you shook your head, needing to calm her down.

"Hey, whatever it is, I'm not going to hate you." You could never. Not even after all the crap the two of you went through, you didn't hate her for one second. Brittany was impossible to hate.

"But you're already pissed at me for Fifty Words, and now-" Brittany went on to say, but you couldn't allow her to continue that line of thinking.

"Look, Britt, I know you've done me a favour by whatever the hell Fifty Words is. I know you have. I'm not pissed at you about it, okay? Without it, I wouldn't be friends with you again, or even Rachel. So don't worry, alright? I'm not going to hate you."

She didn't look convinced, even when you gave her your best reassuring smile, but there was nothing you could do. You had no idea what she was talking about, and while her words did make you exceedingly anxious and curious, you didn't want to press the issue just in case you upset her again.

"Just remember that I'm really sorry, I thought it would be different," she finally said, and you nodded, pulling her into a tight hug. She embraced you back, and you whispered to her that you loved her, always would, and then kissed her on the cheek before grabbing her hand. She might not have needed someone to walk her to class, but you were going to.

When you dropped her off and then went to your own, you couldn't help but think about her words. It filled your stomach with dread, and fear was creeping up your spine. She thought it would be different. She thought Fifty Words would have a different affect, but it hadn't. What did that mean?

*0*0*

The answer to that question arrived at the end of the week, and it had knocked you for six. Friday nights were always Quinn and your nights together, but it seemed, that was to be no more. You had found yourself giving her space, and she giving you space, but she had requested to see you on Friday night, to talk, and a part of you was convinced she was coming around.

You also felt the familiar pull of lust in your stomach when your bedroom door closed behind her, and her eyes stalked your movement. Fucking hell, you were still captivated by this girl. And that's what hurt the most when she finally fessed up to what she wanted to discuss.

"I can't do it," Quinn admitted, anxiously playing with her hands in her lap, sitting on the edge of your bed. You froze, midway across the floor, and then took a step back.

"Can't do what?" you asked, frowning. If she couldn't have sex, that was fine, because you weren't intending to have sex with her anyway, no matter how much your body wanted to. The two of you needed to get onto the same page before any of that happened.

However, it seemed like she was saying the two of you weren't even in the same book.

"I can't come out. I can't tell people. I can't do this anymore," she said, shaking her head, her eyes refusing to meet yours, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. She had to be kidding. This had to be the worst joke ever.

"Quinn-" you began, only to be cut off, your voice already sounding choked.

"No, okay? No. I'm sorry. I thought I could, and I was trying to work out a way of coming out, but Santana I don't want to. I don't want to fight with my family again, and I don't want to be rejected from my church. I can't…I'm not strong enough to-"

"You are, and we can do this-" You pounced across the room, landing on your knees in front of her, taking her hands in yours. You needed her to know that she could do this, she could, and you would be with her every step of the way.

"We're not doing anything. It was stupid and foolish to even think that we could…I can't do this. _I'm not gay_." No. No. No. Fuck, no. "And I'm sorry it's taken me so long to work out, but I still want to be friends-"

"Friends? You want to be friends?!" God, she was killing you.

You dropped her hands like they'd burnt you, and shuffled back, leaning against your desk. How the fuck could she still want to be friends? Did she not understand what she meant to you?

"Quinn, I love you," you stressed, pouring every emotion into your voice, and you watched as her eyes filled with tears, before a hollow look masked her face.

"And I love you, Santana, but as a _friend_." Standing up from the bed, Quinn wiped down her skirt, and headed for the door. You remained motionless, unable to move, unable to think, a ringing in your ears, and your vision going blurry. God, you felt like you were going to be sick.

"I am truly sorry," Quinn whispered into the silence, before closing your door behind her, and then you were sick.

Fuck.

*0*0*


End file.
